Me vs. Cleanse: 2015

Two weeks of 'cleansing' has come to a triumphant conclusion. It hardly felt like a cleanse. I was never hungry and I never had any insurmountable cravings. I truly was sated. In fact, the portions were often so plentiful I couldn't finish some meals – even skipped some scheduled afternoon snacks and desserts. Which, I believe, makes up for the bit of cheating on the wine consumption. I didn't drink tons, but maintained a glass or two each evening. I cut myself some slack on that, especially considering I swapped morning coffee for tea. And I love, need, my morning coffee. These days, with the baby and not much sleep, I feel that I need coffee to makecoffee. But no, it has been tea. With almond milk and occasionally agave nectar. Meh.

Anyway, it's over. Some of the eating restrictions during the cleanse we will attempt to maintain. The big shocker: Butter. I never would have thought we could last two weeks cooking every meal in our home without butter. But, as it turns out, its absence went virtually without notice. The cleanse recipes layered so much depth and flavor, pulled from both fresh and dried herbs and spices and elegant oils like walnut and grape seed, that really kept the palate interested and happy - thinking. And using ingredients like barley, quinoa and whole grain rice kept me from pining for, craving or needing pastas, potatoes and breads. No, really.

But my morning coffee with full-fat cow milk is already back, boyeee.

I will say that this two-week food lover's cleanse is not for every one. It's title is apt. To really, really execute this cleanse, one's love of food must be infinite. Also beneficial is employment in the food field (writer, photographer, recipe developer et al). In fact, one may find it difficult to pull this off above fifty percent if one has an actual nine to fiver that is not in the food arena. And here's why: these past two weeks required an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen. A few hours a day. Even though it was extremely well conceived - using elements from the previous night's dinners for the next day's lunches, certain components prepared in batches or the night before to simplify the process of some breakfasts and parts of other meals (like the barley and dressings and compotes) it was still a bear. Oh, and try popping off to the market to grab a bit of orange flower water, why don't you? Hell, I had to try four different ones here until I landed the Bhutanese red rice. At times it was kind of like a scavenger hunt.

Another note of mention: it is not cheap. This was easily a $600 initiative (for two people, mind you). I will add that many ingredients were optional or could be substituted for others. For example, you could reasonably use walnuts in lieu of pistachios or extra butter lettuce or watercress in lieu of arugula. And admittedly, that orange flower water was on the optional list. But really, that's nickel and diming. Many of the big dollar items are pantry ones – specialty oils, dried spices and herbs and things like chia seeds and pine nuts. These are also presumably things that will last long after the cleanse. And we did not eat a single meal out for two solid weeks. So maybe it balances out. It depends on how you live your life in food, I suppose. But it's good to know what your bottom line is likely to be.

But for me, a lot of good came out of this cleanse. For too long now I have been absent in the kitchen. This new(ish) life, with this new(ish) baby chews me up and spits me out at the end of each day. By the time I get her to sleep, I'll eat whatever is easiest, first available or what Fred feeds me. My meals are sporadic and, as a result, randomly portioned – usually far too big. This cleanse has taught both Fred and me to plan better with meals, batch cook, eat smarter and seriously rein in the portions. Four ounces of protein is a gracious plenty. But it has been fun: we looked forward to each of our meals. The chopping, sizzling, and stirring, the news or music on the radio (oddly, we found ourselves in a Cat Stevens mood often while cooking these dinners), a candle lit on the table, and actually eating the meal at the table. I guess you could say we have returned to food. We even used a good deal of the surplus produce - the carrots, beets, sweet potatoes, and butternut squash - to start Emerson on solid foods. Everyone wins.

And here's one more thing: I lost ten (10) pounds(!). How you like them apples? 
(Apples with almond butter = often the 'afternoon snack' of the cleanse).

As I stated, we will try to carry on some of what we learned during the course of the cleanse. But the reality is, life is happening, too. We won't always have as much time and energy to put into each and every meal. Plus, it will be nice to have a social life again, share meals, coffee and drinks with friends and family, and Good Lord, eat a meal out again! But I really appreciated that Fred and I stuck this out and I can probably place a safe bet that we will do it again next year. Each year deserves a fresh start, right?

After we completed the cleanse, Fred and I sat down – over chia pudding and fresh fruit, mind you – to settle on our favorite and least favorite foods of the cleanse. Here's where we landed:

Elliott Bests:

Breakfast: Scrambled Eggs With Caramelized Onions and Chèvre

Snack:Egg with Furikake (pictured)

Entree: Turkey Breast with Roasted Broccolini OR Roasted PorkTenderloin with Porcini Broth (pictured) OR Sundubu with Clams and Tofu

Side:Aromatic Red Rice OR Beet Soup with Caraway

Dessert: Spicy Orange Hazelnut Chocolate Bark (pictured)

Fred Bests:

Breakfast: Oatmeal with Cacao Nibs and Figs

Snack:Egg with Furikaki (pictured)

Best Entree: Roasted Pork Tenderloin with Porcini Broth (pictured) OR Red Rice Congee with Chicken, Kimchi, and Mushrooms OR Roast Chicken with Butternut-Tahini Purée

Side: Aromatic Red Rice OR Gochujang-and-Sesame-Roasted Winter Squash

Dessert: Spicy Orange Hazelnut Chocolate Bark (pictured)

Worst (we both agreed on this): 
Beet and Escarole Salad with Avocado and Walnuts (a big weak sister of a dinner)

To see the entirety of our meals during the cleanse and how all of the recipes turned out in real life, take a tour on both my and Fred'sInstagram feeds.

Roasted Pork Tenderloin With Porcini Broth

(recipe from the 2015 Bon Appétit Food Lover's Cleanse)

4 servings

Ingredients

½ ounce dried porcini mushrooms (about ¾ cup)

1 1¼-lb. pork tenderloin

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

2 tablespoons olive oil, divided

1 small shallot, finely chopped

4 ounces wild or cultivated mushrooms (a combination of black trumpet, maitake, chanterelle, beech, oyster, and/or shiitake), trimmed, halved if large

2 medium carrots, thinly sliced on a diagonal

1 cup homemade chicken stock or low-sodium chicken broth

Directions

Preheat oven to 425°. Place porcinis in a heatproof bowl and cover with 2 cups boiling water. Set aside until porcinis are tender, about 20 minutes. Strain, reserving liquid and mushrooms. Finely chop mushrooms.

Season pork with salt and pepper. Heat 1 Tbsp. oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add pork and cook until browned on all sides, 6–8 minutes. Transfer to a rimmed baking sheet and roast until an instant-read thermometer inserted into center of pork registers 140°, 15-20 minutes. Transfer pork to a cutting board and let rest 5 minutes before slicing ½” thick (about 15 slices).

Meanwhile, heat remaining 1 Tbsp. oil in the same skillet over medium heat. Add shallot, mushrooms, and carrots, season with salt and pepper, and cook 1 minute. Add porcini broth, chopped porcinis, and chicken stock, season with salt and pepper, and simmer until vegetables are tender, about 4 minutes.

Divide pork among shallow bowls and ladle broth and vegetables over top.

*ALL recipes from the 2015 Bon Appétit Food Lover's Cleanse can be found here.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Tom Kha Gai

Two years ago: Bagels

Three years ago: Chicken with 40 Cloves of Garlic

Four years ago: Cremini Mushroom & Meyer Lemon Risotto

Five years ago: Chicken Pot Pie

Seven years ago: Oyster Stew

Good Grief.

This is hard, but I feel important to write.

My first baby and longtime best friend, Besito, passed on a few weeks ago. I have thought of little else but have not been able to articulate how to write about it as each day has brought with it a new crop of emotions and realizations. I am confident Besito's life was filled with love, affection, stimulation, beauty, enrichment and loads of snuggles and fun even in the face of the inordinate amount of health issues that were prominent in the later years of his life. I'm also confident that it was, as they say, his time. He was comfortably swaddled in my arms and against my heart when he went to sleep forever. But I am still having such a rough time reconciling it all.

And I realize this is a very natural, very common, way to feel.

People have been telling me that time is our saving grace, that it heals all wounds. But what I fear more than feeling the grief is not feeling it any more. And that, of course, is inevitable. But for now, my tears seem to keep him with me. In a way it's good grief.

We went through a lot together, me and that guy. Some of my twenties and all of my thirties, a life in Atlanta and a life in LA, with a road trip to get us there and all sorts of other journeys throughout. We went everywhere together until it was simply too difficult for him, physically. But he saw more places and met more people, and animals, than most folks I know. He was there to accept my new relationships; friends and boyfriends, happily – welcomed them right into our family. And he was also there if those people left. I can remember, more than once, feeling heartbroken - everything broken, really – and so alone, but having Beso right by my side and thinking, “We've got each other you and me. We take care of each other.” And we did. And we knew.

Besito skirted death quite a few times in his thirteen years. Some from illnesses, some from being adventuresome and defiant, and one time from swallowing a peach pit. I often joked that he had nine lives. After one of his surgeries to repair paralyzation from the neck down, he was on bed rest for three weeks. So I cancelled everything and stayed home for three weeks, too. We entertained in, ordered a lot of delivery and marathoned multiple seasons of Gossip Girl.

He was, without a doubt, a huge personality. He could sing – harmonize even. We loved to sing together. He would match my volume and pitch. He loved clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer. He would frolic in them like a child in a pile of fall leaves. And his all-time favorite food (though he would eat any and everything) was eggs. If he so much as saw me pull the egg carton out of the fridge it was over. Whenever I would have eggs for breakfast I saved some for Beso and let him lick the plate clean. But the most important thing to Beso, and I don't mean to boast, was me. And I felt it every single day. His eyes followed me everywhere I went, and when I would come home from being away, he greeted me each time as though I was one of the Beatles. And every, single night Beso slept curled up in my arms. He was the littlest spoon.

Beso was also like an alarm clock. He was so food obsessed that each day, both at exactly eight in the morning and at six at night, he would start yelling at me for dinner. And he would continue to do so until the food was in front of him. He always made quite clear what he wanted, actually – up on lap, pet me, no not there, yes, there, I want down, I need to go out, I hate wind, and rain, where's the sunspot, this would be a good time for a treat, give me your eggs.

As Fred said on a recent morning, when everything felt so still and quiet without Beso waking us up and screaming for breakfast, “He was the fizz that made the soda bubbly.”

And I couldn't have put it any better.

In the weeks I have been trying to write this, I've gone through many stages. But some interesting factors have been in play and continue to pop up during this time that I simply cannot ignore. As I mentioned, Beso was ill. He had a half dozen close calls, real nail biters, in the last year that I wasn't sure he would come through. It was very important to me that he at least make it back to Richmond. I wanted him to know home, be home. With me. And once we all got here, I really wanted him to make it to one more Christmas... and his thirteenth birthday. Which he did all of, gracefully. But now, so immediately after his death, what I can't help but notice is how poetic it is that Spring is suddenly in full force. New colors and new life are everywhere. There is a little bird's nest in a fern on my front porch and a baby squirrel nest in the tree in my backyard that I can clearly see from my window. The squirrels even used paper from our recycling bin to build their nest – which, a few weeks ago, I had thought Beso was doing to get into scraps. And most poignantly, I'm going to have a baby. Soon, now. In fact, he was laying on my shelf of a pregnant belly as drifted onward and upward.

I'm not a very spiritual or religious person. I know we all create signs and gods and heavens, really, to cope with the difficulties of understanding that which is death. But I can't help but look at Beso's timing, how well we knew each other, how unconditionally and ginormously he loved life, and me. And, though anytime I see something little and cute I think of him, how could the baby birds on the front porch and the baby squirrels on the back porch and the baby girl in my belly not also be a little bit of Besito saying, “It's okay Mom. Really, after all we've been through, all of that love, we're together always. What lives must die. Life is death as death is life. Plus, I really don't like babies anyway. They get all the attention - and it's time to give yours to her, now.”

So I will.

Fred and I will be planting a tree in our yard, hopefully a fruit bearing one, in the coming weeks, and we will scatter Beso's ashes there. That way he will always be home with me, with Fred and our family. He will see seasons and life and change and growth. I look forward to sitting by the tree and sharing stories with our baby girl all about Besito Ysidro and our many adventures together.

And all of this, I know he knows.

Besito Ysidro Shaffner

2001-2014

I haven't cooked much since Beso died. I especially haven't been able to make eggs, yet. But Fred and I did make this beautiful fish dish recently. It was so, so simple and very apropos for the warmer weather, and even dining al fresco. We made a fish stock out of the carcass that would have surely been incorporated into Beso's meals. Our other pups, Eduardo and Byron, enjoyed the stock in their own kibble!

Whole Oven-Roasted Fish with Lemon & Rosemary

Note: Trout, red snapper and loup de mer (branzino) are great choices; wild striped bass and rockfish work fine too. Cooking times vary with size.

Serves 2

Ingredients

1 whole fresh fish, cleaned and rinsed

4 sprigs fresh rosemary

1 lemon, sliced thinly & seeded

1 clove garlic, minced

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoon olive oil

Red pepper flakes

Sea salt and pepper

Directions

Remove the fish from the refrigerator 10 minutes before roasting.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Mix garlic and olive oil and let sit to infuse for 5 minutes. Strain and discard garlic; set aside the oil.

Season the fish inside and out with salt and brush inside and out with the garlic oil. Place lemon (save for 2 or 3 slices) in the cavity with the sprigs of rosemary.

Arrange the remaining lemon slices and small rosemary sprigs in slits on top of the fish and sprinkle with red pepper flakes. Roast until a knife easily penetrates the flesh and the top fillet begins to lift easily, about 25 to 30 minutes.

Carefully transfer the fish to a warm platter and serve.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Braised Eggs with Lamb, Tahini & Sumac

Two years ago: Eggs in a Basket with Maple Bacon Fontina & Chives

Three years ago: Lamb Chops with Cumin Cardamom & Lime

Four years ago: Ludobites 4.0

Tell me what you want, what you really, really want.

I spend so much energy on my to-do lists and my tidying and my fretting about The Next Thing that I far too often fail to see the forest for the trees. For years now I have wanted to construct a different, idealized life for myself; one that would be simpler and, simultaneously, more fulfilling. A life that found me doing what I really want to be doing, where I really want to be doing it and with whom I really want to be doing it. And really, who wouldn't really want that stuff?

So here I am, almost forty years old, and less than six months ago I jumped off the high dive. I left my career and my friends and my home of most of my adult life to get back to it. To what I really wanted. But you know this.

What we really, really want. Funny thing. That's the hardest part, isn't it? Getting to the nut of it all, and figuring that out. It seems as though it would, it should, be the the easiest part. And for some it is. And then it's just a matter of aiming for the target, right?

But what if you should have turned right when you turned left? What if you choose to do this and you chose that instead? What if?! And therein lies the rub. Right there is why so often we end up doing what it is that we do (instead of where our major in college was to take us) and who we end up doing it with (instead of 'the one that got away'). Why, sometimes, our lives, our careers, our partners, find us rather than the other way around. And we can call it destiny. Fate. Something beyond our control, beyond our power.

Maybe I do or maybe I don't but I'd like to think I have a little more control over my past, present and future than to chalk it up to fate, destiny, 'shit happens' or 'c'est la vie' (which makes perfect sense coming from a consummate control freak). And that's why I'm right here, right now. I'm in Richmond, Virginia with Fred. We're having a baby girl this summer. I see my family and my Paz lots and lots. I'm eating, cooking and writing about food – and getting paid to do it. And I have to say that all of these things exist because I wanted them and I focused and worked to that end. And still, had Chris and I not had that conversation about 'that thing called a blog' six and a half years ago, there's a very, very good chance I wouldn't be here, doing this - writing this. With Fred. Had I turned right instead of left.

In my fifth grade yearbook, everyone in my class stated what they wanted to be when they grew up. I said Artist. So maybe all these years I've been staying the course. Hard to say.

One of the things I have always really wanted was to be in a creatively collaborative relationship with my significant other (think Frida and Diego, Anais and Henry, Virginia and Vita, or my favorites, Lillian and Dashiell) . Call it fate, call it destiny, call it finally locating that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but I definitely have found a true partner in both the intimate and creative spheres. There is no doubt Fred's photography has elevated this blog exponentially. And though, while we work together we squabble like two Tweens over a strand of Justin Bieber's hair, what we create is beauty and that makes me beam with pride and accomplishment.

Well, we have taken it all a step further. We have made it official and are expanding from just F for Food with a real deal food photography and styling business: Fred + Elliott Food Styling & Photography. And I'm unveiling the curtain here. The website is up, the business cards are printed and the phone line is active (we just love the design done for us by A for Adventure). We are ready. I keep thinking of Annie Pott's character in Ghostbusters when they get that first call.

But, not to worry, I'm not going anywhere. I mean, where else can I talk freely in this way? That reminds me of another thing: one of the fun parts of this whole pregnancy thing (at least the stage I'm in now), is that I can eat what I really want. In moderation, of course. I'm told that if I crave something specific, my body probably needs it. This likely explains the sudden and bizarre cravings for peanut butter and honey sandwiches with a glass of milk (the first glasses of milk I've had in over twenty-five years). I guess I need protein and calcium.

Well, last night I really, really wanted ricotta cheese. So Fred made it for me again. And I also wanted pasta (always). So we made that, too. And with the weather being close to eighty degrees and the sun shining mightily, I wanted to make a bright springy dish incorporating those two ingredients. Five months in, Fred now knows that the pregnant lady – come Hell or high water – is going to find a way to get her hands on the food that she really, really wants.

So together, collaboratively, we did it all: from foraging for the right ingredients, to making our own ricotta and pasta from scratch, to the styling and photographing the food, to eating it (and yes, of course there was the requisite amount of bickering). I'm not sure if it was the process behind it, but man alive, this dish was exquisite. I can't see why anyone wouldn't really, really want it, too.

Here is the recipe, so you too can manifest your destiny, my friends.

Fusilli with Fava Beans, Fresh Mint & Ricotta

Serves 4

Ingredients

2 tablespoons coarse salt, plus more to taste

1 pound fresh fava beans, shelled (you can substitute edamame or peas)

1 pound fusilli pasta

1 cup ricotta cheese

1/4 cup coarsely chopped mint leaves, plus more leaves for garnish

Zest of 1 lemon plus juice of ½ lemon

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Directions

Fill a large stockpot with water, add 1 tablespoon salt, and bring to a boil; meanwhile, prepare an ice-water bath. Place fava beans in a sieve, and lower into water. Let water return to a boil, about 1 minute; blanch beans, 1 minute more. Remove sieve from water, and place beans in ice-water bath. Transfer to a colander; drain. Peel and discard tough skins; set beans aside.

Discard blanching water; fill stockpot with fresh water. Bring to a boil, and add 1 tablespoon salt. Add pasta, and cook until al dente.

Meanwhile, in a large bowl, combine ricotta, lemon juice, lemon zest, and chopped mint. Just before pasta has finished cooking, add 1/2 cup cooking water to cheese mixture; stir to combine.

Drain pasta, and transfer to a serving bowl. Add olive oil, and toss. Add cheese mixture and reserved fava beans; toss to combine. Season with salt and sprinkle with mint leaves and a little extra lemon zest for garnish; serve immediately.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Chocolate, Olive Oil, Blood Orange Cupcakes with Walnuts
Two years ago: Roast Chicken with Meyer Lemon & Thyme 
Three years ago: Roasted Parsnip-Carrot Soup with Crispy Bacon & Potatoes
Four years ago: Fresh Mint Pea Soup

What You Really Know About the Dirty South?

Before moving to the City of Angels, I lived in Atlanta. I moved there straight from college and spent six important years in the Dirty South. For the most part I loved it and those were happy years. My twenties – the salad days, if you will. And, with the exception of one very brief visit to a friend, I had not returned.

Until now.

One of the beefs I had with the ATL when I was there was the sprawl (and so, of course, I moved to LA). The city seemed disconnected as a whole. I remember the nail in the coffin for me and the ATL - I was walking down the street in my neighborhood, Little 5 Points, when a friend drove by, honked his horn and hollered, “What up, Duchess?!” (Yes, that was my nickname). I don't know what it was about that moment. I suppose I had been itchy already, but right then I felt like I couldn't breathe. Despite the sprawl, despite the city-ness of the city, everything seemed so small. I needed to fly away. I needed to find bigger. And so I did.

It's a funny thing, however. After all of my years in LA, the very thing thing I really missed, the thing I yearned for the most was exactly the thing I had turned away from in Atlanta all those years before. Screw anonymity, screw the whole little fish/big pond thing, I wanted community and family. I wanted little(r), not big(gest). I wanted to return home to Richmond.

So, how could I not stop in Atlanta, the very city that took me on my long journey back home? (And I do so love to come full circle) Plus, it has become a pretty big food destination over the past few years. What's more, some of my old friends from back in the day are smack in the middle of this Atlanta, New South food surge. And some other old friends are still making their food, their way, deliciously, same as it ever was. And I had three places to visit that fell into either one, the other, or both of these categories.

Our first stop was one of those classics, El Myr. It was my Regal Beagle, so to speak, and perhaps where the whole “duchess” thing originated. Part dive bar, part DJ venue, part diner, part tattoo corral, all cheap beer, tequila, chips, salsa, guacamole and massive burritos. I was relieved to find, upon bellying up to the bar one quiet afternoon for lunch, that not a thing has changed. Every possible surface is covered with outsider art or band stickers, ashtrays on each table, jukebox in the corner, and the same gloriously irreverent and surly staff: perfect. As Fred and I split chips, salsa and guacamole, a couple of sweet teas and a Brunswick stew burrito that was the size of our dog, Eduardo, I gazed around the space, nostalgically. If those walls could talk... Actually, I'm glad they can't. As soon as we finished, I hurried Fred out. Just in case.

El Myr's 14th birthday party
Photo courtesy of El Myr

The next morning was slotted for brunch at another restaurant that held a special place in my heart, a spot that employed me for my last year in Atlanta: Ria's Bluebird. Ria is a local celebrity of sorts in Atlanta and has been for as long as I can remember. Everyone knows Ria. And, likewise, everyone knows her namesake restaurant famous for its brunch. In fact, Ria recently appeared on the Food Network's show, Chopped. It was a brunch battle. Ria won. Even on a weekday there was a bit of a wait in her tiny little nook on Memorial Drive, but fortunately Fred and I most often prefer to dine at the counter, and, after about ten minutes, we had our seats. And then we dove in: two coffees, huevos (grilled, blue corn tortillas with black and pinto beans, topped with white cheddar, two fried eggs, salsa and sour cream), biscuits and gravy (two handmade buttermilk biscuits with pepper milk gravy), and a short stack of buttermilk pancakes, aka “The world's best pancakes” - New York Times (hand-sifted, made from scratch, with hot maple syrup). Chopped champion? “World's best pancakes”? I get it. This is food for the heart, mind and soul. 

After that meal, we returned to our home base: my dear, dear friend, Brian's house, at which point we all three decided we should take a walk. Brian led us to Atlanta's newest, and probably most attractive addition yet; the BeltLine. The BeltLine is a former railway corridor around the core of Atlanta which is under development in stages as a multi-use trail. Some portions are already complete, while others are still in progress, but absolutely hikeable. We walked from Brian's house, which is a stone's throw from my old apartment, all the way to the dog run in Piedmont Park. Though there and back took the better part of the afternoon, the concept of that route being realistically walkable in that amount of time would have been completely unheard of during my time in Atlanta. To see all of the people walking, riding their bikes or skateboarding, through the heart of a city as car-centric as Los Angeles was remarkable, and truly a beautiful sight. Kudos, ATL.

Brian and yours truly making happy faces.

Alright, we all three had exercised, we got sunshine, some beautiful fall scenes, a lot of laughter and conversation, and now were showered and ready for our fancy dinner at my third, planned destination: Miller Union. As a result of more old friends and Facebook and other social media, I had been hearing about the development of Miller Union long before they opened in late 2009. Plus all those years ago, their chef, Steven Satterfield had worked at quite a few well-known and well-respected restaurants in Atlanta (one with Ria!) and was my roommate's bandmate. So I was very much looking forward to saying hello and finally experiencing this New South food magic he has been creating that has been mentioned in every, single food-related magazine that I have touched in the past few years. But really, one dish in particular, I'd say their most iconic dish: his farm egg baked in celery cream.That's right - a single, beautiful, farm fresh egg with that bright orange yolk suspended in cream, infused with the earthiness of celery, and baked until it's set like custard, and served with a crisp, buttery slab of grilled country bread. This dish exemplifies freshness, simplicity, restraint and beauty.

That alone, and of course a little QT and a glass of wine with Steven after dinner was well worth the entire evening.

What a trip.

Atlanta, you surprised and delighted me on many levels. You gave me three days with Brian, good wine, delicious food, first glimpses of fall, pride and confidence in growth and change for the better, wonderful and profound memories of a life and a me that I had almost forgotten – and missed. You took sprawl and created cohesion. Atlanta, you are big and beautiful and doing things right. And though I am confidently heading towards my new home, I will keep all of these thoughts tucked not too far away. Because you never know. You never do.

Signed,

The Duchess

Farm Egg Baked in Celery Cream
(Recipe adapted from Stephen Satterfield, Miller Union, Atlanta)

Serves 2

Ingredients

1/3 cup fresh cream


2 stalks celery, including leaves, roughly chopped


1 shallot, sliced, including skin


1/2 small onion, sliced, including skin


1 tsp kosher salt


3 peppercorns


1 small bay leaf


1 sprig fresh thyme


butter for greasing  


2 farm fresh eggs

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a small saucepan, gently heat cream, celery, shallot, onion, salt, peppercorns, and herbs until very hot. Remove from heat and let steep for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, lightly butter two small ovenproof ramekins and crack an egg into each, being careful not to break the yolk. Strain the cream into a small bowl, gently pressing on the solids. Discard solids. Spoon cream over each egg just until covered. (It's okay if the egg yolk is protruding slightly across the top.)

Bake dishes in preheated oven for 5 to 6 minutes. Check closely to make sure the whites are setting but the yolk is still soft. Then turn the oven to broil and, with the door propped open, heat until tops begin to brown. Remove immediately and let rest a minute before serving. Serve with warm crusty bread brushed with olive oil.

Printable recipe.

Two years ago: M.B. Post
Three years ago: Sausage over Creamy Lentils
Four years ago: Chicken Fricassee

Movin' On - New Orleans City Limits.

Another long day in the car making it the rest of the way through Texas and into some more familiar territory. Things went from arid to humid pretty fast as we rolled into the swamp lands of Southern Louisiana. And, although I had been enjoying myself immensely, wide eyed and fascinated with the new places I was experiencing, I was eager to return to climates, time zones, cities and cuisines that were more familiar. Louisiana was the first stop on our trajectory that fit the bill. Hello, N'awlins!

Sure, we had a list of restaurants to visit, but the highlight of this stop was to be an evening with my really good friend, Sarah, and her family. Sarah moved to New Orleans right after college and fell in love with it. She remained even after Katrina hit, and now lives in the Lower 9^th Ward with her husband, Simon, little boy, Robin, and a host of cats. Both Sarah and Simon are educators: he teaches the second grade; she is Director of the Greater New Orleans Writing Project and an English instructor at the University of New Orleans. They are also hugely active in the politics of the City and their own neighborhood.

Needless to say, they're quite busy.

So, Fred and I decided to spend a day foraging for all of the local ingredients to make a big batch of chicken and smoked andouille gumbo for Sarah and family. After calling ahead to find out which kitchen 'fossil fuels' they had on hand (oil, rice, flour, cayenne pepper, etc.), we threw back a couple of cups of chicory coffee at our bed and breakfast, and hit the streets of the Big Easy. We picked up our produce - onions, celery, bell peppers, green onions and parsley – at the historic French Market in the Quarter. Then it was off to one of my favorite places in the city, the Cochon Butcher, to pick up our chicken and andouille sausage. We also grabbed some boudin to grill up and have as snacks for all during the long gumbo-making process. After a quick stop at a small, corner market to procure the file powder, we had only one last stop: wine, cheese and bread. That means Bacchanal. Sarah and Simon were actually married at Bacchanal and I was their wedding photographer. How could I not pick up the most important provisions there?

We arrived at their house a skosh early and busted in on Simon taking a shower. Sarah was apparently at a doctor's appointment and was running a few minutes late. While Simon finished up, Fred and I began unloading and getting organized. We prepared a cheese plate and opened a bottle of wine. As the cork popped from the bottle, Sarah walked in. Jokingly I asked, “Did you get a clean bill of health from the doctor?”

“Yes. I'm pregnant,” she replied. At first I thought she was putting me on, but as I looked from Simon to Sarah then Sarah to Simon, I knew they knew. It was for real. I was so filled with emotion and happiness – and thrilled about my really great timing to be there right at that moment.

We cooked and talked and snacked and sipped into the night while listening to classic Creole music. By the time the gumbo was ready it was late, but that was just fine. Simon ate with us while Sarah gave Robin his bath. Sarah ate with us while Simon tucked Robin into bed and then headed that way himself. We could tell it was Sarah's bed time as well. As I mentioned, this is one busy family.

Dinner was delicious. Sarah and Simon both loved the gumbo. The roux, the spice level and the consistency were all on point from the perspective of these New Orleanians. And though we were in a city with some of the best restaurants and night clubs in the country, if not the world, I couldn't think of a better place to be than in that little house by the levee in the Lower 9^thWard with Sarah and her family.

Post script: I just spoke with Sarah asking permission to mention her doctor’s appointment. She approved and said she heard the baby's heartbeat a little earlier in the day. Insert smiley face, here.

Chicken & Andouille Gumbo
(recipe adapted from Emeril Lagasse)

Serves 6-8

Ingredients
1 tablespoon plus 1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 pound andouille sausage, cut crosswise 1/2-inch thick pieces
4 pounds chicken thighs, skin removed
1 tablespoon Creole seasoning
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups chopped onions
1 cup chopped celery
1 cup chopped bell peppers
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
3 bay leaves
9 cups chicken stock
1/2 cup chopped green onions
2 tablespoons chopped parsley leaves
1 tablespoon file powder

Directions
In a large Dutch oven, heat 1 tablespoon of the vegetable oil over medium-high heat. Add the sausage and cook until well browned, about 8 minutes. Remove the sausage with a slotted spoon, drain & set aside.

Season the chicken with the Creole seasoning and add in batches to the fat remaining in the pan. Cook over medium-high heat until well browned, 5 to 6 minutes. Remove the chicken from the pan, let cool, until ready to use.

Combine the remaining 1/2 cup oil and the flour in the same Dutch oven over medium heat. Cook, stirring slowly and constantly for 20 to 25 minutes, to make a dark brown roux.

Add the onions, celery, and bell peppers and cook, stirring, until sweating, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the reserved sausage, salt, cayenne, and bay leaves, stir, and cook for 2 minutes. Stirring, slowly add the chicken stock, and cook, stirring, until well combined. Bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook, uncovered and stirring occasionally, for about 1 hour.

Add the reserved chicken to the pot and simmer for 1 1/2 hours, periodically skimming off any fat that rises to the surface.

Remove the pot from the heat. Using a slotted spoon, remove the chicken thighs from the gumbo and place on a cutting board to cool slightly. Remove and discard the bay leaves. Pull the chicken meat from the bones and shred, discarding the bones and skin. Return the meat to the gumbo and stir in the green onions, parsley, and file powder.

Serve over white rice.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Acorn Squash Ravioli with Sage Browned Butter

Two years ago: The Blue Goat (restaurant review)

Three years ago: Pecan Shortbread

Four years ago: Fishlips Sushi Truck (review)

Deep in the heart of Texas.

We arrived at our next stop after a long day on the road. We had driven all day and only been in one state – so you know we must have been in Texas. I was extra excited because A) I was meeting an old friend I hadn't seen since college, and B) I had never, ever been to Texas before. One thing for sure; there would be BBQ.

Now, I'm from the East Coast and that's usually the Carolina style BBQ camp. This means the meat (usually pork) is served pulled, shredded, or chopped. The predominant flavor is that vinegar-based sauce - it's tart. And cole slaw is invariably on top of it. Texas BBQ sauce is darker, thicker, tomato-ier, it's sweet. And this Q is slaw-free (or, at least, on the side).

After a fury of back and forth texting from the road with my friend, we agreed to meet at the landmark Texas BBQ joint, The Salt Lick. It worked out beautifully as we rolled into town in the middle of a beautiful sunset. The restaurant wasn't too far from their house – a little ways out of Austin, on the side of a long, lonesome, bucolic road in Driftwood, Texas. They call it Hill Country.

Opened in 1969 by Augustus 'Texas Boy' Roberts, Sr. and his wife, The Salt Lick grew quickly in popularity and went from being open only a few times a year to being open seven days a week. Upon walking into the large, ye olde wagon wheel, lodge-like space, I was greeted immediately by the massive open BBQ pit filled with MEAT.

Between the four of us we ordered everything – brisket, pork ribs, beef ribs, sausage, turkey and a half of a chicken. All of which came with sides of potato salad, cole slaw, beans, bread, pickles and onions. 'Thurman's Plate' was put in front of me (because that's the dish that 'Poppa always ate'); brisket, pork ribs and sausage. We did get some sweet tea, but as for the adult beverages, BYO. Thankfully our friends brought a mobile cooler filled with local beers and a box of wine (!).

About mid-way and 32596 bites of that sweet, Texas barbeque'd meat through the meal my friend asked me, “So, do you think it's GOOOD or do you think it's good?” Fred and I looked at one another and then back to her and replied in unison, “I think it's good.” And that kind of says it all. It's a really wonderful experience. The space is fun and authentic. The BBQ pit is fantastic. The food comes out at a clip, is inexpensive (the entire meal for four was around $60) and there is a ton of it. The service is friendly and approachable. We had a box of wine. Maybe it's those Carolina BBQ roots, and though I thoroughly enjoyed my foray into Texas BBQ, it was good. Really good. And really fun.

Missing were the wheelbarrows to transport us back to our cars.

And after that day of driving and that meal, we slept a sound sleep deep in the heart of Texas.

Well, since it took two days to drive through Texas, you get to hear about two restaurants....

The next day's lunch was all mapped out. And it was all Fred. He has been an avid fan of Top Chef, along with me, for many seasons, and had been reading all about the former Cheftestant, Paul Qui, and his flourishing career in Austin. More interestingly to Fred, Qui's brick and mortar iteration of his East Side King food trucks.

We found it hiding in the back of a divy dive bar aptly called Hole In The Wall, across the street from UT. The ultimate college bar; dark, dingy, old school rock music blaring from the speakers, with pool tables, pinball machines, murals on the walls and band stickers on everything else. Qui uses this iconic space to flex his tasty, funky fusion street food riffs on Japanese, Thai and Filipino cuisines. Using the ubiquitous cilantro, mint, onion, jalapeño combination in many of the dishes, Qui throws a little shout out to Texas to boot. Boot. Texas. Get it? Hello?

Fred ordered the Thai Chicken Kara-age, Liberty Rice, Poor Qui’s Buns, Brussels Sprouts Salad, and the uber melting pot of a dish; Chicken Tortilla Ramen (bacon dashi, chicken-tortilla-Tom-Yum paste, chicken thigh, avocado, corn, corn tortilla, pickled yellow onion, jalapeño, cilantro, garlic, lime).

The food was audaciously impressive. The dishes were heartfelt, inspired and esoteric. Everything was bright and fresh and colorful. The Liberty Rice; simply steamed jasmine rice, ginger, garlic oil, basil, cilantro, mint, onion and jalapeño – yet, so bold and herbaceous. The ramen was the perfect Winter comfort soup - so complex, layered and delicious, we couldn't stop eating it in even the arid ninety degree heat. All of this beauty confidently served up in little paper dishes with little plastic utensils. And putting a mere $40 dent in the wallet.

We ate a lot of food – and fairly big food - but did not feel weighed down at all. I'd even say we left with a spring in our step and a long forgotten Clash song in our heads.

Paul Qui's Chicken Kara-age over Liberty Rice

Serves 4

Ingredients

Brine

1 cup water

1 cup sugar

1 cup white vinegar

1/2 cup fish sauce

1/4 cup chopped garlic

1/4 cup chopped thai chilies

Chicken

24 oz chicken thighs

1.5 fl oz of Chicken Brine

Sauce

1 cup water

1 cup sugar

1 cup white vinegar

1/2 cup fish sauce

1/4 cup chopped garlic

1/4 cup chopped thai chilies

1  1/2 cup Mae Ploy chili sauce

Liberty Rice

1 quart jasmine rice

1 quart water

1 tablespoon julienne ginger

1/2 cup garlic oil (heat chopped garlic in oil)

Veggies & Herbs

10 jalapeños

2 large yellow onions

1/4 bunch basil

1/4 bunch mint

1 bunch cilantro

Directions

Make the Brine

Place water, sugar, fish sauce and vinegar in bowl. Whisk until sugar is completely dissolved. Add garlic and thai chilies and whisk until both are well dispersed throughout the liquid.

Brine the Chicken

Take the chicken thighs and cut into 3/4-inch cubes, making sure to remove fat and tendons from the thighs. Place in bowl. Whisk previously prepared brine to redistribute garlic and chilies evenly. Ladle 1.5oz of brine into the bowl with the chicken and toss. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let marinate for 8 hours before use.

Prepare the Sauce

Place water, sugar, fish sauce and vinegar in bowl. Whisk until sugar is completely dissolved. Add garlic and thai chilies to the mixture and whisk until both are well dispersed. Add mae ploy and whisk until combined with mixture.

Make the Liberty Rice

Wash rice in bowl until water runs relatively clear. Place rice in cooker and add 1 quart water. You want a 1:1 ratio of rice to water. Add ginger. Close lid and set the rice cooker to cook. Once the rice is done mix in garlic oil. Keep warm until ready to serve.

Meanwhile, Slice Jalapeños & Onions

Cut the ends and tips off of 10 large jalapeños. Using a mandolin slice the jalapeños into 1/8-inch slices. Cut the tops off of 2 large yellow onions. Peel onion halves making sure that the root of the onions remain. Slice the halved pieces of onion in half, so that the onions are now quartered. Using a mandolin slice the onion width wise into 1/8-inch slices. Place sliced jalapeños and onions in the fridge and hold until time to serve.

Prepare the Herb Mixture

Pick herbs, making sure that only the nicest green pieces are saved. Places herb mixture in bowl and toss herbs gently making sure that herbs are well mixed in the bowl. Place herbs in fridge and hold until time to serve.

Cooking and Serving

Place 1.5 pounds of brined chicken in a bowl. Pour cornstarch into the bowl and toss chicken, until well coated. Place coated chicken into sieve. Place sieve into empty metal bowl and shake chicken in the sieve until excess cornstarch falls into bowl underneath. Place chicken into fryer basket and drop into oil. Fryer should be at 375 degrees F. Cook chicken until crispy and golden brown. While chicken is cooking make sure to shake the basket so that the pieces are able to evenly cooked. Separate pieces using tongs if needed.

While the chicken is cooking take medium metal bowl and place small handful of onions and jalapeños in bowl. Set bowl aside until chicken is finished cooking.

When chicken is finished pull from oil and allowing excess oil to drain and the chicken to rest. Place chicken in the medium metal bowl that contains all the vegetables. Season chicken with 1/2 tablespoon of salt. Pour 1/4 cup chicken sauce over chicken. Toss chicken and vegetables in the sauce until all is evenly coated. The chicken and vegetables should have a nice glean to them but chicken should still be very crisp.

Place 3/4 cup cooking rice into individual bowls. Place chicken and vegetables on top of rice. Top with small handful herb mixture and your dish is ready to serve.

Serve the chicken piping hot with sliced onions and jalapeños. Top with mint, basil and cilantro.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Ham Hock & Lima Beans
Two years ago: Cousin Flonnie's Spoon Bread
Three years ago: Spaghetti & Meatballs
Four years ago: Calbi BBQ (Food Truck)